


Invaluable

by scorchedtrees



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 20:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1955628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorchedtrees/pseuds/scorchedtrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Petra becomes essential to Levi's heart, by percentage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Invaluable

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Rivetra Secret Santa exchange on tumblr (2013).

_0%_

It is her hair that catches his eye, causes him to turn from his perusal of the city streets slick with rain and focus on the bright color that calls for his attention. The light drizzle is hardly a torrent, but the denizens of Sina are nothing if not an easily ruffled bunch, and most people have their hats pulled low, collars pulled up, hurrying to their destinations as if Titans and not water droplets are chasing them.

The rain falls in light  _pitter-patter_  sounds, plinking off rooftops and trashcans to land in puddles on the streets. To Levi, the wetness seems to throw everything into sharp relief, yet at the same time, it causes the world to blur around him, colors muted, sounds faded, senses dulled. The only thing that stands out is the sudden flash of amber in the corner of his eye.

It is a little girl, her hand firmly clutching a woman’s, hood down and eyes wide with childish wonder as she walks past, seemingly unaffected by the rain. Her face is wet, her hair damp and stringy, but there is a look of pure amazement on her face as she looks up to the sky, a content smile on her lips.

Levi cannot remember ever being that innocent so he pauses to stare. The woman holding her hand—most likely her mother—leans down to say something to her, and the little girl shakes her head and points above her head. Levi is unable to hear their conversation but he understands the gist of it, that the girl likes the feeling of the rain on her face, in her hair.

It makes him a little resentful, because  _he_  doesn’t want to be rained on, not one bit, but he has no choice in the matter, whereas the little girl has a perfectly good hood that is going to waste. But then the metallic glint of coins in a money pouch hanging on someone’s belt flashes in his vision, and all thoughts of the little girl with the bright hair are forgotten as Levi forces his brain back to what he was doing in the first place.

_1%_

It is her height—or lack thereof—that draws his attention, causes his gaze to linger on her, the short young woman with the chin-length copper hair. She stands in line with the rest of the new Scouting Legion recruits, her right hand fisted over her heart, her eyes fierce and burning with resolve.

She is just another soldier, one of many who have devoted their lives to this cause, but she is yet another person who does not know what she is truly getting herself into, yet another person whose life he has to be responsible for, yet another person who will probably be dead by the end of the month, swallowed or crushed into bloody pieces of flesh and bone.

He learns later that her name is Petra Ral and that she graduated fifth in her trainee class. He sees her around sometimes at headquarters, eating with her friends, laughing and teasing and cracking jokes, smiling constantly like she hasn’t a care in the world, and though he doesn’t know her at all, has no reason to worry about her, his usually stoic mind sometimes has concerns:  _she’s so innocent_ and  _she has no idea_  and  _she’s going to be gone by the next expedition_.

But he sees her training, sees how quick she is with her 3DMG and how nimbly she completes obstacle courses, how powerful she is with her blades, and he thinks maybe he doesn’t need to feel uneasy about her after all. She catches him watching her once, and maybe it is the look in his eyes, maybe it is the way he is gripping the handles of his own blades, because she comes up to him afterwards and says with a small smile, “Don’t worry about me, sir. I can take care of myself.”

After the next expedition, he believes her.

_5%_

It is his own carelessness, really, that causes the incident; he is usually more careful no matter how close they are to the walls. But he is slightly distracted today, maybe by the sun’s glare in his eyes as they ride or the fact that he hasn’t slept in over twenty-four hours; he hasn’t even had any of Hanji’s shitty coffee in a poor attempt to keep himself energized.

He is usually much more alert, but this time, he doesn’t notice the six-meter class deviant until he feels the giant presence behind him, hears a female voice cry, “Captain, look out!”

He whirls around, hands automatically reaching for his blades, but there is already a shadow looming above him, a grotesque face leering down at him, dirty fingers groping for him—

And then the movement stops; the giant’s expression never changes but its hand goes slack and Levi has to urge his horse forward to avoid getting flattened by the falling body. Petra jumps off its back a moment later, retracting her 3DMG wires.

"I’m glad you’re okay, sir," is all she says before she returns to her horse.

When Erwin tells Levi to choose soldiers for his own squad two months later, Petra Ral is the first name he writes down.

_12%_

She gets up early in the mornings just like him; she reminds him of a bird, the small, feathery, chirpy kind, rising with the sun to patter around the kitchen and hum under her breath as she brews coffee or tea for the rest of the squad.

"You don’t need to," he says the first time she does. He did not expect anyone else to be awake but she is already in the kitchen, her uniform neatly pressed, hair tucked behind her ears, smiling contentedly as she works at the stove, a little tune escaping her closed lips.

"I don’t mind," she says, rummaging through the cupboards over her head for the jar of sugar. She is the only person on his squad shorter than him, and Levi notes, with some satisfaction, that he is not the only one who has to stand on tiptoe to reach the bottom shelf.

"I always used to do this for my dad," Petra explains as she pours a cup of coffee and stirs sugar into it. "He’s my only family, and, well, now that I’m here…"

Her expression is somewhat shy and she doesn’t look at him as she offers him the cup, but he thinks he knows what she means. He takes it from her, nodding his thanks, and takes a sip.

He doesn’t know how she did it, but he does know that as long as Petra is around, he is never going to drink Hanji’s coffee again. Ever.

_23%_

"You need to sleep more, sir," she implores, and he doesn’t look at her, because if he does he will probably lose his temper and order her to leave. And he doesn’t want to do that, because Petra is nice, Petra is sweet, Petra is an outstanding soldier and his subordinate and  _dammit_ , she is getting on his nerves.

"You always look so tired, you train so hard during the day, and then you lock yourself up doing paperwork nearly all night, and you get up so early every morning," she continues, and he feels his fingers tighten on his pen as he tries to ignore her, wondering why the hell he let her in his office in the first place and why the hell he hasn’t kicked her out yet.

"I like making coffee for everyone, for you, but I don’t want you to drink it just so you can deprive yourself of sleep. It’s important that you get proper rest," she says, and Levi can’t stand it anymore, no one has ever coddled him before and no one needs to start now, so he finally looks up at her and glares.

"It’s none of your business what I do, soldier," he spits, "and it’s not your place to tell me what I should or should not do." He almost expects her to turn red then, to leave like any normal person would, to excuse herself and walk out, but to his surprise, she glares back, clenching her fists.

"Alright then,  _captain,_ " she snaps, "don’t listen to me, but I’m only nagging you because I actually  _care_  about your wellbeing.” And then she does storm out, banging the door of his office shut behind her.

He stares after her for a moment before going back to his paperwork, but even an hour later, he cannot get her words out of his brain:  _because I actually care._  He doesn’t remember the last time anyone has said that to him, if ever.

The next morning he is the last one downstairs; Erd, Auruo, Petra, and Gunter have long finished their breakfasts and they sit around the table, talking and laughing. When he shows up, the conversation stills because he has only just arrived and it is well past sunrise. Petra’s lips tighten, but she pushes away from the table and goes to the kitchen to fetch him a cup of coffee anyway, and when she hands it to him, he tries to smile. She looks out the window, at the cloudless blue sky and the rays of the morning sun shining through, and smiles back.

_36%_

She likes to talk a lot, he realizes, whether they are sitting around the dinner table or waiting for their turns at the obstacle courses or grooming their horses in the stables. She will open her mouth and babble on about anything, from the recent weather to something funny Erd told her to the latest letter her father sent her from the small house where she grew up within Wall Rose.

Levi is not a garrulous person by any means, and excessive chatter usually irritates him, but he finds he does not mind the sound of her voice. She talks enough for the two of them, anyway, and he only has to occasionally nod or make noises of affirmation when she sends questioning looks his way.

One day she tells him about her mother, about her brave mother who died serving in the Scouting Legion nearly ten years ago, and Petra says she joined the Scouting Legion too to follow in her mother’s footsteps, to fight for humanity (though hopefully without the dying part). She tells him about how adamantly her father was against the idea, but how he caved in the end because he could never say no to his little girl. She laughs at that, a little sadly, and then asks him about his parents.

He should just say what he always says when people raise this question (which is not often); he should just tell her it’s none of her damn business, he should tell her not to bother him, but what comes out of his mouth instead is the truth, something he hasn’t thought about in ages: “I don’t remember my parents.”

Most people would immediately offer condolences, apologize for something that is not their fault, look at him with sorrow or pity, but Petra just puts her hand on his for a brief second before removing it. Her palm is warm and comforting, her fingers smooth and soft, and she doesn’t look at him when she nods but he thinks she understands anyway.

_50%_

He never talks about his childhood with anyone, ever, but somehow Petra just pulls things out of him, causes him to freely give information and reactions and thoughts to things he usually tries not to have anything to do with.

She slowly learns about him, about his time on the streets, his afternoons spent scavenging and his nights spent running, about Isabel and Farlan and why he joined the Scouting Legion in the first place. He does not tell her outright, but somehow she learns anyway, forms a clear picture in her mind from little bits and pieces she managed to gather from him.

And she does not judge him for it.

But even as she takes little scraps of his heart, she leaves him parts of hers; he comes to recognize the subtle differences between her three types of frowns and what they mean, why she always insists on waiting for them all to be served first before helping herself, what makes her happy and what makes her sad, what makes her laugh and what makes her cry.

She slips up once when they are talking and calls him  _Levi_. Her eyes widen and she says quickly, “Ah, sorry, captain—” but he cuts her off.

"In private," he says, "Levi is fine."

"Levi then," she agrees, and he thinks it feels right.

_64%_

He is being stupid, he tells himself, for noticing such trivial details. They live in a war-torn world of blood and pain and loss; they should be paying attention to the big things like  _how many Titans up ahead_ or  _how many dead this time_ or hell, even  _how many assholes complaining in Sina again_.

He should definitely  _not_ be paying attention to things like Petra’s hair, damp and dark gold and smelling of lilacs right after a shower, or Petra’s smile, bright and beaming in the dimly lit dining hall at night, or Petra’s arms, bare and dotted with adorable little freckles as she spreads them out and spins on lazy summer afternoons, enjoying a break from the daily rituals of training and training and yet more training.

He is stupid, he thinks, he is an idiot, he is foolish, his brain is being an even bigger ass than he usually is, but he cannot stop thinking about these things. They do not occupy his mind constantly, but instead creep up on him at the most random times, distracting him during meetings, while he is doing paperwork, when he is lying in bed at night and trying to sleep.

Sometimes she will brush against him by accident, her fingers touching his as she hands him a cup of coffee, her shoulder bumping his as they walk to the stables together, her hand grazing his thigh during training, and he will clench his teeth and order his heart to stop beating erratic patterns against his chest.

His heart never listens.

_78%_

He has been frightened before in his life, many times: when he was a child standing up to bullies and street thieves, when he used 3DMG for the first time, when he fought Titans on his first expedition, thinking that every swing and slice he made would be his last; but he doesn’t think he’s ever felt as panicked as he does now, when he sees one of the giants they’re fighting grab the wires of Petra’s 3DMG.

He would shout, he would curse, but the sound gets caught in his throat and stays there, choking him, and for one moment he forgets everything, forgets that he is in the middle of a battle himself, forgets about his own safety, forgets about absolutely everything—he can only watch as Petra struggles to get out of its grip, and the Titan starts lifting her by her cables, raising her so it can drop her in its mouth—

And then its hand slackens and she finally breaks free, shooting her hooks far away, face an ashen white, eyes wide with shock.

"Thanks, Auruo!" she yells, and her voice is shaky with relief.

Riding back inside the walls later that day, Levi cannot bring himself to check on her, even as her comrades swarm her, expressing their relief at her continued existence and congratulating Auruo on saving her in time. Auruo, usually so boastful about his good deeds, only nods and brushes the praise away; his face is nearly as pale as Petra’s and he is clearly more concerned for her wellbeing than anything else. Levi thinks he should go see her too, make sure she’s alright, but no, he is her superior and the way he wants to talk to her is not the way a commanding officer should talk to a subordinate, and it makes him feel slightly bitter that the rest of his squad can openly speak to her however they like and he cannot.

As they slowly make their way back to headquarters, Levi comes to realize two things: that he likes her far too much for their relationship to be one of captain and soldier or even simple friendship, and that she has inserted herself so neatly into his heart, he cannot force her out even if he wanted to.

_89%_

"You need to be more careful."

It is hours later, the sky pitch black already, the moon a pale glow surrounded by soft twinkling stars. The rest of the squad has long gone to bed, but when Petra appears in his office at what must be at least two in the morning, those are the first words he says to her since the incident earlier that day.

"I know," she murmurs, and her face is still drawn, her eyes shadowed, her usually flushed cheeks leeched of color. "I’ve never had such a close encounter before."

Something about the way she is talking to him, the way she mutters her words and refuses to meet his gaze, lights a spark of anger in the pit of his stomach, and his voice comes out much harsher than he intended as he snarls, “You could have fucking  _died_.”

"I  _know_ ,” she says, and she is still not looking at him, her eyes fixed firmly on the ground.

"What do we train for? You think we do it for fun? We train so we can kill those giant pieces of shit, so we can avoid being eaten by them, not so they can grab your wires and nearly eat  _you_.”

He’s being irrational and he knows it, but he cannot stop his mouth, his brain, because he can still see her, caught in the Titan’s grasp, slowly being raised to be flung down that giant throat, and the image still freezes the blood in his veins, stops the beating of his heart—

"It was an  _accident_ ,” Petra snaps, but her eyes are still not on him.

"An accident," he snorts, and she flinches a little. "You were trained better. You should’ve been more careful. Fucking  _accident_ indeed.”

She finally looks up at him, and there is a bit of color in her cheeks now, something like fury shining in her eyes. “What’s it to  _you_?” she demands. “You’re  _Captain Levi,_ humanity’s strongest; of course you don’t have  _accidents._ But they happen all the time to other people: soldiers die all the time; I just got lucky today. But yes, I could have died, and why the hell are you so mad at me? It’s not like I did it on purpose, so why the hell are you so pissed off?  _What’s it to you?_ ”

"Because I fucking  _care_!”

He’s said it, let it come out in one quick burst of angry words, and now he wishes he didn’t, because he can usually control his emotions so much better, and now she is staring at him, her eyes wide, no longer furious but… surprised. Surprised and something else.

He tears his gaze away from hers and clears his throat, shuffling the papers on his desk for something to do. He reaches for his pen again, wishing he had just kept his mouth shut, but a hand on his own stops him.

Maybe it’s his imagination, but he thinks Petra’s fingers are trembling slightly, and maybe his mind is just making things up, but he thinks her voice is unsteady as she says, “Levi.”

"What?" he says, not looking up at her, but he does not remove his hand out from under hers.

"How much?"

"What?"

"How much do you care?"

How much, really? He doesn’t know, but he knows that his heart likes to do the most ridiculous things when she is around, that her presence is as warm and comforting as a hot cleansing shower, perhaps even more so, that she is bright and vivid and full of passion and he cannot imagine his life without her.

He raises his eyes to meet hers again, and hers are watery, tearing up at the corners, and her face is still bone-white but there are splotches of pink on her cheeks, and her hair is messy and her uniform is creased and there are lines of exhaustion tugging at the corners of her mouth, and he thinks she looks absolutely beautiful.

 _Too fucking much,_ he thinks, and maybe he accidentally said it out loud, maybe she reads it in his eyes, but either way her grip on his hand tightens, and she leans forward and presses her lips to his.

She tastes like blood and sweat and tears, salty and metallic, but she is soft and warm and her hands ghost across his shoulders, leaving light feathery touches on his neck until she reaches his face, cupping it with her palms. She opens her mouth to his and he slips in, exploring her own, touching the ridge of her teeth with his tongue, and she gasps and shudders against him; he drinks in her scent, soft and slightly floral, slightly fruity under all the scents from the expedition, and he never wants to let her go, but—

"Ow," she mumbles against his mouth.

—there is a desk between them.

He leans back slightly but keeps his hands anchored to the back of her neck; she does not remove her hands from his face. “Levi,” she whispers, her breath tingling on his lips, and the sensation is one of the most wonderful things he has felt in ages.

"Petra," he whispers back; her fingers tighten in his hair and she smiles, tears shining in the corners of her eyes, and he presses a kiss to her forehead and for the first time he can remember in a long time, his heart is content.

_99%_

He knows her so well already, thought he knew almost everything about her, but he could never have imagined how utterly soft her skin is—everywhere, how pliant she can be in his hands, how much he likes the sound of her breathy voice in his ear, whimpering his name.

She is sweet, she is gentle, but she is also a force to be reckoned with; he’s seen her fighting before, seen her slashing and killing Titans with rage burning in her eyes, but he could never have imagined how rough she can be in bed too, biting and sucking and scratching, her nails digging deep trenches in the flesh of his back. She will bandage his wounds afterwards and place light kisses on them, and he can feel the softness of her lips all the way down to his bones.

She helps him in so many ways, with her warm eyes and lovely smile and compassionate nature. Erwin is his commander, he respects Erwin and trusts Erwin’s judgment, but Petra is his  _friend._ She is not just any woman, a passing fancy or a good lay, she is  _Petra_  and he thinks he loves her.

He tends to stay far away from thoughts like the following, but in a way, she completes him. She is his better half, his moral support, his light in the midst of darkness. She understands him fully, knows there is much more to him than  _humanity’s strongest_ , and she does not detest him for his weaknesses; she is patient, she is kind, she puts up with his less-than-gentlemanly moments, and she is always there for him, as he will be there for her.

He likes it when they have multiple days off and he can sleep in with her, waking naturally without the fear of being late or getting caught. When she is with him, she tends to wake up later than usual, and he likes to thread his fingers through her hair as she sleeps and whisper meaningless words in her ear.

"I love you," he says one morning against her cheek; she is still asleep and does not stir. He is a bit surprised himself at the words, but when he thinks about them, he realizes his heart agrees.

_100%_

It is so much emptier without them around.

He never thought the old castle was big, but now it feels much too large, like all the presences it contained have been sucked away, drained and deposited somewhere he can never reach. They were much more than just human beings, they were  _people_ , his friends, his closest friends, but their personalities do not linger.

If he closes his eyes, he can imagine Eren’s subdued footsteps are Gunter’s, and if he doesn’t strain his ears, he can pretend the wind whispering through the trees outside the window is the sound of Auruo hissing as he bites his tongue again for the umpteenth time. He can think the dining hall smells like that cologne Erd likes to wear, or that Petra made the coffee and she is just upstairs, not far from his grasp.

But the coffee is much too bitter, much too bland, and even if it were perfect, he thinks he would hate it anyway.

When he trains, he imagines there are four other figures right behind him, laughing and whooping as they soar through the air, blades drawn and ready to fight. When he cleans, he pretends he only has one floor to do because the other floors are already being taken care of. When he sleeps, he can almost feel Petra siting on the edge of his bed, shoes off, one arm curled around the bedpost, giving him a challenging look:  _So soon? It’s still pretty early._

He can sense her everywhere he goes, at the stove in the mornings, at the table at noontime, at the training grounds in the afternoon, in his bed at night. He knows he’s only imagining things, that her presence remains only in his mind, not in the old castle, but he likes to pretend otherwise.

Because somehow, in the span of a few short years, she has become an intrinsic part of his life. She is— _was_ , he forces himself to think,  _was_ —small, shorter and skinnier than him, a petite young woman with a slight frame, but she filled him so completely—every corner of his mind, every crevice of his heart, every nook and cranny of his body. She is gone now, and it leaves his mind empty, his heart aching, his body numb, so he pretends she is still there, because he does not know what to do without her.

She is invaluable to him, and he cannot let her go.


End file.
